Too Much Ambrosia
by SareRide9
Summary: Annabeth has a Percy-sized square of ambrosia, and gets rather...giggly. Prompt: Kiss it and Make it Better. Percabeth. Fluff. Humor. And a special kind of kiss. And Percy shows Annabeth how winners kiss hands.


**Prompt: Kiss it and Make it Better  
****_Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters or ideas of Percy Jackson and the Olympians. Or the privilege of owning the ZipLock baggie cooperation. Or eskimo kisses, those belong to eskimos. And ... anything else. I don't own it.  
_(^ that was real official like, huh?)**

_Ow. Ow! OW!_

_Annabeth, it doesn't hurt. It's all in that wise head of yours. Don't think about it, do not think about it, notthinkingaboutit._

But dear Athena that hurt like a _mother'._

She was in the little shed next to the fighting arena, trying to find a suitable set of a bow and some arrows. Of course, Chiron had picked her for the tiny task that no one besides her could screw up.

_Found the arrows_, she thought bitterly as she clutched her hand to her chest.

"Can I get some help in here?" She shouted. But no one was likely to hear her, it was almost lunch when she'd left and with all the time it took her to 'find' the arrows, the conch horn had probably already been blown and now there was probably a little less than a hundred kids fighting to get to the dining pavilion first.

Little known fact: She's a sucker for bacon.

Today's lunch: B.L.T.'s

She whimpered for good measure, maybe one of the gods would spot her and go, "Oh that poor Annabeth is injured and missing out on her B.L.T.'s, I should stop by and solve all of her problems."

Sadly, no such luck.

Instead of eating a delicious sandwich, she was clutching a bloody hand to her chest and hopping from foot to foot trying to ignore the throbbing pain.

_It doesn't hurt._

"_Di immortales_!"

She'd tripped over a box when she'd bounced to her right foot (the arrows were _way_ in the back) and now she was sneezing over and over again, trying to wipe the downfall of newly disturbed dust out of her eyes and off of her face.

"Annabeth?"

"_Achoo_!"

"Bless you. Annabeth where are you?"

She groaned and shifted painfully. "The floor."

"Uh, why?"

"Oh, y'know I like lying on the dirty floor in a room full of weapons. Favorite pass-time." He cracked a smile.

"Oh look, I'm laughing. Har har. Now why are you really on the floor?"

She scowled at the offender. "That box is going down."

"I'd do it for you."

"Do what?"

"Take him down."

"So the box is a guy?"

"Yeah, 'cause I'd never hit a girl box."

"You're pathetic."

"_I'm_ pathetic? Whose the one lying on the floor?"

"No one asked you, Seaweed Brain."

"I asked myself."

"Funny, I don't remember. Now will you help me out of this _gods-forsaken _shed?"

"What's my prize?"

"I _might_ not punch you when I make a full recovery."

"Reassuring." He snickered. And then tried to locate her again. How on earth does he manage to lose a live girl in a 7' X 7' shack? He sighs and calls out, "You're going to have to be a little more specific than 'the floor'."

"Try looking down." Comes her agitated reply.

So he does.

And, lo-and-behold, there's Annabeth.

Looking as frustrated as she sounds.

He grins down at her.

She scowls up at him, "Are you going to help me up or what?"

"I'm thinking about it."

She gasps and puts her good hand to her heart dramatically, "You can think? Oh dear gods no! The world is ending!"

Without thinking he jokes (because it's something he always used to do when she'd insulted him), "I love you too."

Inwardly, he gasps and stutters and can't believe he just said something like that; outwardly, he grins at her thunderstruck expression. He outright laughs when she's the one stuttering and gasping.

Then he notices her hand.

And the laughing stops.

And then it's: "Annabeth are you alright?" and "Annabeth what happened?" and "Annabeth, tell me what happened." and "Does it hurt awfully bad?" and "Hold on, I think I have an ambrosia square." and "Here, take it."

And then she's eating the slightly smushed ambrosia square that he just so happened to have in his pocket (in a ZipLock bag, of course), and then she feels something warm go all the way from the tip of her nose to the end of her toes.

And then she's laughing.

Some part of her brain - the part that screams "_YOU'RE ATHENA'S DAUGHTER_!" at her whenever Percy convinces her to do something stupid and reckless (but it's always so much fun) - tells her that she's just ate a Percy-ified ambrosia square, and (while it's defiantly not enough to burn her from the inside out) it's meant for a male who's two and three-quarters inches taller than her (not that she's counting!), defiantly weighs more, and has and Achilles Heel.

But she doesn't pay attention to that part of her brain, (for it is far to strict for her, and quite possibly has a stick somewhere where sticks don't belong) and smiles drunkenly up at her savior. "A hero! The hero-y-ist of all heroes!" She declares.

He looks at her like she's just said that Kronos is about to drink a strawberry milkshake with them.

She giggles at the mental picture. "You're fun to think about."

He isn't quite comprehending what has just happened to her. "Me?"

She snorts. "No, silly-willy, the_ other _Percy Jackson."

He mouths, _Silly-willy? _But she doesn't see and starts to watch as her hand repairs itself.

Then she sneezes.

And he jumps at least a foot in the air (he knows because his head hit the sealing rather hard) and she erupts in hysterical giggles, clutching her stomach and trying to breathe.

He stares, jaw un-hinged (he's fairly certain he'll need a screwdriver to get it to shut properly), and tries to comprehend what happened to Annabeth in the last thirty seconds.

The ambrosia!

Then he joins the laughter.

"Bless you."

She erupts in another fit of giggles and then she looks at her hand - which is completely healed - and frowns. Which makes her hero - _the hero-y-ist of them all! _- stop laughing. And then he's looking concerned. And,

"You're cute when you worry." She informs (_reminds_), reaching for him.

And - just like she hoped - he lays on the floor with her instead of picking her up.

There's some space between them, and she suddenly wants a ruler to measure the distance and then make sure that it never comes between them again.

But then he turns on his side and she turns of her side and their noses brush. She giggles. "Eskimo kisses."

He laughs - for her mood is quite contagious - and presses his nose closer to hers, "Eskimo kisses." He agrees.

She giggles some more, (he's almost positive she's giggled more in the last five minutes than she has in her entire life) and grabs his hand. . She puts on a serious face and brings their entwined hands up close to her eyes, so she can see them properly. She then declares, "'The spaces between my fingers are right where yours fit perfectly.'" And grabs his other hand.

"Isn't that a song?"

She nods contentedly and leans her forehead against their hands, "Owl City. He's a son of Athena, did you know?"

He shakes his head and wonders how she can pay attention to all the littlest things.

Then she frowns again, winces, and he starts wondering if it _was_too much ambrosia. He's panicked now, "Annabeth-?"

"I'm _fine_, Seaweed Brain." She giggles and frowns a moment later. "Just awfully sore."

He brings her hand towards him and carefully inspects it; the deep gashes where the arrows pierced her are now faint lines against her tan skin. He runs a soothing thumb over it.

"Y'know, Percy..." She trails off, "A kiss _might _just make it feel better."

_She's awfully confident when...intoxicated._ He thinks. And then adds, _And giggly._

He brushes his lips over her knuckles.

"Gods, you're such a _loser_, can't even kiss a girls' hand properly." She scoffs, holding back those incredibly constant giggles.

And then, he shows her _exactly _how _winners_ kiss a girls' hand.

(And, silently, he promises to tease her about _every single thing_ she's said.)

**A/N: Success? Epic failure? Tell me.  
I need a beta, ladys and ginnypigs. If you see/know/are one lemme know.  
The story is your New Years present. You likey? TELL ME. Please.  
There are two rhymes in this story, if you're incredibly bored, find them, and then tell me.  
I actually wanted to title it, "The Spaces Between My Fingers are Right Where Yours Fit Perfectly." But, alas, FFN is a mean bully and won't let me fit it. Thus, the name is: "Too Much Ambrosia." Should I change it to "Eskimo Kisses." or perhaps "Hero-y-ist Hero." ;) Again, lemme know.  
If you read this AN, use the word. . . Penguins in your review. Or perhaps Tigers. Or both.  
And a(nother) challenge, make a PJatO story (one-shot or otherwise) with the prompt: Eskimo Kisses. And then tell me about it. :) [I might join in this challenge too.]**

**Review. (See, I'm thinking that maybe if I stop making it a question, you'll actually do it.) ^_^**

**(And if a single one of you say: "Oh my gods, Annabeth was TOTALLY OOC! You're a horrible person!" You will be banished to Tartarus, because _Annabeth is supposed to be OOC because she's intoxicated. *_giggles* Sorry, that was my inner gang-member.)**


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